


Running Late

by averageclawenfangirl



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: A little smutty, Clawen, F/M, Fluffy, Naked Owen, who doesn't love that?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averageclawenfangirl/pseuds/averageclawenfangirl
Summary: Claire can't help but be distracted when she really can't afford to be..





	Running Late

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy..

Claire turned left and right a little frantically, smoothing the fabric of her dress over her thighs. Two creases sat near the hem, probably unnoticeable to anybody but her - yet they were driving her insane. She had half an hour to get to a conference with the Tokyo division at Control, and Claire was certain she’d be late - and that _never_ sat well with her. She was gnawing on her bottom lip like there was no tomorrow; almost certain to draw blood soon as she heard Owen clamber back into bed behind her, after depositing two mugs of coffee on the cabinet. His laugh was quiet but it still grated her senses; Claire’s hands flying to her hips as she sighed.

“I don’t know what’s so _funny._ This is your fault,” she said accusingly, eyeing Owen in the reflection of the large, cracked mirror he had resting against the bedroom wall.

“ _My_ fault?!” Owen almost choked on his drink, hand flying to his bare chest to protest his innocence. 

“You asked me over last night, and then you didn’t let me leave,” Claire muttered, watching his head tilt as his eyes followed her ass, clad snugly in the tight white material. 

This time Owen laughed freely, smirking for all he was worth. “That ain’t how it went down, and you _know_ it, baby,” he shook his head.

Claire couldn’t help the grin pulling at her lips as she ignored him, trying to organise the waves that had taken over her hair. He was right, of course. He had indeed invited her over, dinner ready on the table, but Claire had been the one to kiss him first, to pull his shirt from his waistband, as she had been half the time for the past six months.

Their constant workplace bickering and fighting had lead to an indescribable amount of fucking in secret; sensual and sweaty and sexy _every_ damned time. Claire felt like a goddess when he touched her; body melting beneath his hands, dirty words like sweet silk to her ears as Owen made her feel like no other man had before. Enemies with benefits suited them both just fine; the people around them unsuspecting of their arrangement. 

It had gone too far, now; Claire accidentally spending the entire night in his bungalow miles from the resort, waking up with her limbs tangled in his, her dress creased and hair ruined by his shower with crappy pressure. It was her own fault, yet Claire couldn’t find it in herself to regret it as she caught his gaze still on her, arms thrown behind his head as Owen lay brazenly naked without a care in the world.

He was a caveman, really; worlds apart from the men in ties and cufflinks Claire had dated before. Effort with his appearance was a foreign concept to Owen, yet he carried it off infuriatingly. His impressive biceps bulged as he shifted a little on the sheets; tattoos woven round his skin; words and roses threaded together on a path toward his collarbones. His chest was a barrelled plane of tanned skin; the muscles of his stomach strong not from the gym, but the lifting he did outside; chopping wood for his campfire and climbing trees to hang his lanterns. Owen was wild to the bone; thick thighs and calves covered in the same wiry dark hair as his chest and the _delicious_ trail beginning just below his navel. 

A fresh tide of lust washed over her; though Claire was sure she’d been utterly spent the previous night, Owen working her body over beautifully, his name ragged and breathless on her lips. She turned toward him; knees hitting the mattress as she crawled toward Owen, shit-eating grin glowing from the recesses of his handsome, weathered face. Claire nudged his legs apart, grasped his chin and kissed him deeply; the feel of his stubble there a blissful echo to how it felt against her thighs. Owen’s hands were on her before she could protest, fingers pulling at the hem of her dress till it rested above her panties, a playful smack against her ass causing her to gasp against his lips as he squeezed her between his calloused hands. 

“You know, I just don’t think this conference is as important as you say it is,” Owen murmured, pulling back to loop Claire’s hair behind her ears and study her face, eyebrows raised suggestively. 

She rolled her eyes; hand reaching down till she gripped the base of him confidently, stroking him gently with the pad of her thumb. She delighted in watching his pupils widen, Owen’s breathing shallower with each passing second as the switch in power presented itself beautifully. 

“Learn to _behave_ yourself, Mr Grady,” she said imploringly.

“Yes, ma'am,” Owen’s chuckle came more like a growl as he kissed her fleetingly, Claire pulling away to roll off the bed and sip from her own mug of coffee as she shimmied her dress back down her thighs. 

“You’ll get your reward,” she called as she headed out of Owen’s bedroom, grinning very much like the cat who got the cream. 


End file.
